


Unnecessary touches

by sgt_lipton



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Drunk confessions, Fluff, M/M, WW2, idk how to tag this is literally my first works, not like uber angsty but a lil bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:12:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5072236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgt_lipton/pseuds/sgt_lipton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lip doesn't realise that Speirs treats him differently, but when it's pointed out to him, he can't help but wonder why. Deep thinking, awkward moments and desperation ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unnecessary touches

**Author's Note:**

> Hello it is I! This work is not beta'd because I've literally just this morning joined AO3 and I'm not really expecting any readers but this is just sitting around in my notes so I thought why the heck not.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: this fanfiction is based on the actors portrayal of the characters in the miniseries 'Band of Brothers'. No disrespect is meant whatsoever to the men who fought bravely for the good of their country, along with mine and many others.

It was never something he'd noticed until it was pointed out to him. He never realised until one day, offhandedly, Doc pointed out to Lipton that Speirs seemed to be slightly 'touchy-feely' with him. "Gosh Lip, Speirs certainly doesn't hold up on the physical contact with you, does he," Doc remarked as Speirs walked away after checking that Lip's hand was alright after he had tripped and cut it on some shrapnel. As he was walking away, he lay his hand on Lip's shoulder and gave him a small smile. "I hadn't really noticed it Doc, to be fair," Lip said quietly, looking at the younger man and back to his now bandaged hand. Doc just nodded quietly. He wasn't one for talking much, but his very presence was enough to make any soldier feel at ease. After exchanging farewells, Lip left the medical tent and made his way back to the ransacked house he was staying in with Luz. He had no idea how he landed up staying with the witty jackass that was however many ranks lower than him, but now he was and what was he going to do about it. Luz wasn't actually that bad, he just had an awful habit of never shutting up. To Lip's immense relief, Luz was out with Lieb and Web, no doubt further encouraging their childish bickering.

* * *

 

Eternally grateful for the next few hours of free time he had, supposing no Krauts decided to try and blow him to pieces for the umpteenth time, Lip sunk down onto his makeshift bed and pulled the blanket over himself, still fully clothed. As his eyes fluttered shut, he turned not to sleep but rather to thoughts of Speirs. And to be perfectly honest, the more he thought about it the more he realised how right Doc was. This was Speirs he was thinking of. This was the man that supposedly shot one of his soldiers for being drunk, the man who was thought to have shot over 20 POWs after offering them a cigarette, the man who literally ran through German lines to hook up with I Company before running back. This was Ronald Speirs, and he was no ordinary man. But with Lip, he became slightly more ordinary. He smiled, and not just in a way that genuinely scared people. Sometimes he would smile but his eyes would stay dead, empty and unforgiving. And yet when he shot a smile at Lip, it seemed as if, for he briefest of moments, his whole face melted into something gentle and caring, his eyes shining with something that Lip never really saw at any other time.

* * *

 

Then there was the touching. Speirs was by no means a touching kind of guy. In fact, when confronted with people, he normally took to folding his arms across his torso, some may say defensively, others aggressively. A cautious shake of hands was normally the best anyone could wish to receive, drastically better than his trademark icy stare, or, in the worst case scenario, a physical or verbal beating. However, Lipton was once again the exception. It was almost as if Speirs couldn't keep his hands off the man, resting his rough palms his shoulders, chest, back and upper legs, the touches lingering from a few, tantalising milliseconds to longer, more intense holds. Lipton had never really noticed this before, but now, as he thought back, he couldn't help but recall how he would always fall back slightly into the comforting touch of the terrifying man. He felt like someone he could trust, someone he could talk to. He felt like home. To be frank, this feeling scared Lip. He liked Speirs, he liked him a lot. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Lip never really understood everyone's obsessions with girls. Sure, he had girlfriends, but he never felt for them. People would always witter on and on about how deeply in love they were with girls and Lip would listen, confused and wondering what this experience would feel like. It was then, lying in a half destroyed house in Germany near the end of the war to end all wars, that he realised he knew what that feeling was like. He realised that he had accidentally fallen into this feeling, slowly and yet impossibly fast as the dark haired, supposedly cold blooded killer burst into his life. Carwood Lipton was in love, and there was a chance that Speirs loved him back.

* * *

 

Lip couldn't lie down anymore. A kind of excitement, mixed in with a small yet undeniable amount of fear, coursed through his body, flipping his stomach and screwing with his brain. He was in love. Stretching as he stood up, he unbuttoned his shirt as he walked over to his sink to wash himself briefly. Heavy boots clunking along the splintered wooden floor, he turned on the tap as the cool water gushed from the metal faucet. As he cupped his hands under the tap and threw it into his face, he heard a knock on the door. Expecting it to be Luz, he turned around to see the door swing open and reveal none other than the very man he had spent the last hour thinking deeply about. Lip didn't usually blush, but as he felt Speirs' dark eyes scour his semi-exposed body he felt his cheeks beginning to burn. An uneasy silence fell for a few dragging seconds, before Speirs turned to leave.

* * *

 

"Wait."

Speirs turned back around, and Lip was astonished to see a small spattering of pink on Speirs' pale skin. If Lip rarely blushed, then Speirs was probably the only human who never had. Rumours even circulated that he had a condition which made it impossible for him to show any signs of embarrassment. However, as he stood in the doorway of the half naked Lipton's room, he was blushing like a schoolgirl. Lip indicated with his head for Speirs to come in as he picked up his shirt and quickly buttoned it up, leaving the top two open.

"Are you ok sir?" Lip asked cautiously, not wanting to further fluster the man standing awkwardly in front of him.

"Yes, I'm fine thanks Lip. Sorry for barging in on you like that," Speirs replied, his cheeks returning to their normal colour.

"Don't worry about it sir, I should've answered sooner."

"Anyway, I was just dropping by to see how your hand's doing. I know it's only been a few hours but you know, we need you back in action as soon as possible," Speirs rambled.

His face stayed impossibly straight apart from his eyes, which betrayed all which was otherwise concealed within. They burnt wildly with fear and desire, spiralling out of control and yet beaming out impossible amounts of adoration. Lip knew that Speirs didn't really care too much about his hand. Speirs certainly knew that, at that moment in time, he didn't care about Lip's hand. Despite this, they carried on the awkward facade for the next few minutes, until Speirs placed his hand on Lip's shoulder as he turned to say goodbye. Lip looked at the hand, and then into the other man's eyes. In that split second, the whole world could've stopped turning and the stars could've gone out, the war could've ended and they could've won or lost, but none of that was important because everything that mattered in their worlds at that moment was standing right in front of them, raw and exposed and torn by what they'd seen over the past few years but it had only succeeded in bringing them closer together for sharing those experiences. They were polar opposites and yet they were one and the same. And then he was gone. Lip didn't know when Speirs tore his eyes away from his, or when he walked out of his room and closed his door, but he did know that he stood there for a good few minutes, wrapped up in the dark confides of Speirs' eyes.

* * *

 

Speirs was drunk. It wasn't something that happened often, and when it did he liked to make it a private affair. When he was drunk, he was sad, the kind of sadness that tugs relentlessly at your insides and doesn't allow you to forget the fact that you're not good enough. No matter how good he was, he was never good enough, and he sure as hell wasn't good enough for Lip. He continued down the warped road of alcohol consumption until he heard the softest of knocks at his doors. He didn't want to answer. He was drunk.

"Sir, are you awake? I'm sorry it's late, I just wanted to talk to you."

A pause. Speirs knew who it was, of course he freakin' knew who it was. Who else had a voice that could make him feel instantly more relaxed. A small noise escaped his mouth.

"Sir?" Lip said again, a hint of worry edging at his voice. "Speirs?"

At the mention of his name, Speirs let out a half sob, slumping further back into his chair and placed the fifth empty cheap bottle of shitty VAT 69 on the table. Suddenly, he heard the squeak of the doorknob turning and saw the silhouette of Lip slide across the room towards him. Lip could smell alcohol before he saw the mess of bottles on the table. He knew something wasn't right as soon as Speirs didn't reply properly. He either replied with assurance or not at all, never with soft, pained grunts. The man himself was slumped over in his chair, wearing only a vest top and his trousers with his braces hanging round his legs. Slowly, his eyes travelled up to Lip's face and immediately Lip saw that they were filled with hurt.

"Come on sir, let's get you over to your bed," Lip murmured after quickly assessing the situation.

He looped his arm under Speirs', supporting a good amount of the well built man's body weight. Speirs leant into Lip's side, burying his head into Lip's neck. He had never seen Speirs like this; this exposed, this vulnerable. He gave another feeble sob into the crook of Lip's neck before he was gently lowered onto the bed in the corner of the room.

* * *

 

He sunk onto the springless mattress, grabbing Lip's shirt desperately with both hands and pulling him down next to him. Lip didn't try to stop him; he didn't try to protest. Speirs needed him, and he wasn't going to deny him what he needed. Speirs slowly slid into Lip, pressing close to his body and trying to maintain what little remained of his dignity.

" 'm sorry," he croaked finally, the bitter stench of alcohol floating on his breath.

Lip pulled him into a slightly awkward hug and stroked his hair. Speirs stayed limp, but he carried on rambling.

"I'm sorry that I'm not good enough for you, because you're the most incredible person I've ever met and you're so patient, even with a psychopath like me. You always look out for everyone and they all know that they can come to you with problems and yet they're scared of me, and I don't deserve all the things you do for me because it's SO CLEAR, it's so clear that I am madly in love with you and you don't need to be burdened with that because you could have so much better, Lip, you should have so much better."

Lip allowed him to finish before he gently brought Speirs' head up so they were looking directly at each other. His cheeks were stained with tears that stung his eyes. Ronald Speirs had finally broken and he was scared. Lip tried to smile gently, but his face didn't seem to respond. Despite the fact that Speirs had just confessed his undying love to him, he was destroyed by the fact that Speirs thought he didn't deserve him. His mind darted back to the countless number of times that Speirs had selflessly, almost suicidally, thrown himself into a fight for the benefit of God knows how many people. Despite his tough exterior, he cared about people. He needed to maintain his tough guy appearance, but deep down he knew that he would jump in front of a bullet for just about any soldier in the 101st. This was not something he would ever admit to anyone, but Lip knew it. He just knew, from the brief periods when Speirs would tweak things from behind the scenes to make sure that a battle scarred NCO didn't have to go on an unnecessary mission, or a replacement who was struggling got an extra pack of cigarettes and a bar of chocolate. That was Speirs all over; constantly working for the good of others and actively discouraging any praise for it. Lip rested his head on top of the unruly mess of hair that sat atop Speirs', before gently speaking up.

"Sir, I believe you are mistaken."

* * *

 

After hearing Lip speak, Speirs drew back slightly and looked up at him. He looked so tired, tired of this goddamned war which had torn their lives apart and yet made them slightly more whole.

"Don't call me sir. I don't deserve your respect," Speirs murmured.

"Now that's stupid, you worked hard to get your rank," Lip replied, rubbing his hand up and down the back of the other man.

Lip didn't know where this conversation was going and he was afraid, sure. Not the same fear that he felt when a hail of bombs came raining down on him, not fear for his life. Fear for his relationship with the person he had become, against all reckoning, incredibly close to. He just let Speirs talk, and then stop him and tell him that he wasn't worthless and he deserved the world because damn it he was one of the best men Lip had ever met. After nearly an hour of this, Speirs' eyelids began to droop. Lip lay him down on the mattress, and as he got up to leave he found himself pulled back with a jolt.

"Stay."

And that was all Lip needed to hear to convince him to kick off his boots and huddle close to Speirs, wrapping one arm over his toned shoulders and bringing his head close to his chest. He needed to protect him from the harshness of the world.

* * *

 

Dusty beams of ashen light streamed through the broken window, drawing Lip from his slumber. He was momentarily dazed, before he remembered the events of last night. Speirs still lay sleeping in his arms, and God did he look angelic. Not many people would ever describe Speirs like that, but when his hair was sticking up in the most random of positions and his dark eyelashes were framed on his pale cheeks, when his strong hands were balled up in to delicate fists and when his mouth, which was usually expelling a string of expletives, was open slightly and his chapped lips looked so perfect, it was hard to describe him as anything else. Lip sighed softly. He could get used to waking up next to this man every morning, maybe in a quaint cottage somewhere in the countryside. Somewhere as far away from Nazi Germany they could manage. But for now, they were stuck in the middle of it and had a war to win. Gently shifting, Speirs dragged his eyes open to look up at Lip. He gave him a small smile before he went to get up. This time, however, it was Lip who pulled him back down.

"How do you feel," he asked, half underneath Speirs.

"Much better...thanks for everything," Speirs said in a soft tone.

His arms were braced next to Lip's head.

"I think I'm in love with you," Lip suddenly blurted out after a prolonged moment of silence.

Speirs looked genuinely surprised.

"Me?" he questioned, not quite registering what was going on.

"Yeah, I think so," Lip mumbled, feeling less confident now.

However, his lack of confidence was quickly changed as Speirs leant down and kissed him. It was wildly unexpected and painfully full of emotion. Lip's body finally caught up with his brain as he snaked his arms around Speirs' back and pulled him impossibly close to his body. Their lips were rough and damaged, Lip could feel the light tickle of Speirs' stubble and Speirs' nose kept brushing against the scar on Lip's cheek. It was far from textbook, but it was raw and truthful and it was theirs. It was then that they each made a promise to endeavour to never let the other down and to always love him with all his heart. The terrifying Captain and the gentle First Lieutenant, the only constant in each other's mess of a life.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, any feedback would be gratefully received :)


End file.
